


anchor

by gloomyqueliot



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 10:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloomyqueliot/pseuds/gloomyqueliot
Summary: In which reader is basically: "god why this bitcc always destroying shit for no good reason, lik- oH god is he crying???"aka: self-indulgent hurt/comfort because why yEs i would love to hold kylo during a panic attack, thank you for asking





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            You heard Kylo long before he came into your sight; if the cacophonic blasts of saber against metal weren’t enough, the bouts of enraged, modulated shrieks definitely were. The hall leading to the small breaker room, and in this case the source of the chaos, was deserted. No one dared to roam anywhere near Kylo and his brooding presence during fits like this; not those who wanted to live, anyway. The thought put a stutter in your step, and for a moment the idea of turning around entirely seemed moderately appealing. Adversely, the image of Kylo finishing off the consoles in the breaker room and starting off on a conquest of destruction provided a little more motivation.

            Sparks flew wildly from the open door as you made your approach and you stopped just short of entering, leaning safely against the wall outside.

            “Kylo?” You tried, light and non-accusingly, but loud enough to carry through the chaotic score. For a moment, nothing changed; and then, the sounds of searing metal and one-sided impacts ceased, leaving only the erratic _hum_ of a saber and masked panting. You turned into the doorway then, arms folded across your chest, just in time to see the column of vibrant crimson retreat and the mass of black robes sink to the floor.

            Silently, as if approaching an injured animal, you lightly tread across the floor until you stood just in the line of sight of Kylo. His head twitched in your direction before immediately lolling forwards towards the ground. Kylo’s broad shoulders, only widened by the thick cloak, rose and fell rapidly with each laboured breath. The panicked inhaling was loud enough the be heard even through the modulator, which was spitting out indistinguishable static at this point.

            You remained standing until Kylo’s arms flew up towards his face, gloved hands frantically searching the underside of the mask for the release.

            “Here, here, I got it,” you offered quickly, closing the space between you to kneel right in front of him. You snaked your steady hands beneath Kylo’s trembling ones, easily thumbing the release and gently tugging the mask from his head. Letting it drop down beside you with a _thud,_ you glanced back up at Kylo and tried to muster up an expression other than pity.

            His eyes were tired and glassy, streaks of fresh tears already lining his reddened cheeks. The area around his eyes was tinted a violent shade of purple and, from an unknown source, patches of dried blood were caked around his temple. Getting a good look at the damage was difficult, as Kylo’s head continued to rock forwards and back as he struggled for air. His shaking hands fisted the material of the robes pooling over his thighs and you found his eyes darting erratically from point to point around the wreckage of the room.

            Instantly your hands found his face, cupping his cheeks with enough force to still the motion of his head.

            “Hey, hey,” you gushed, tapping your thumb against his cheekbone in a grasp for his attention; Kylo’s eyes flickered to yours, which you widened in response, attempting to hold his gaze there. “Deep breaths…you’re fine.” You swept both thumbs back and forth where they rested upon his cheeks, but Kylo only seemed to slip into a deeper trance and began to hyperventilate. You started to exaggerate your own breaths, making them loud and slow enough for him to pick up on. When he inhaled you did the same, prolonging the exhale in hopes that Kylo would begin to match your pattern. His wandering eyes found yours again, and for the first time you saw they were filled with nothing but fear and panic as they bore into yours. With each rapid exhale came a throaty _whimper_ , and Kylo’s hands had moved on from his own cloak to claw shakily at your knees in plea.

            “Okay, okay,” you fussed, feeling the slickness of sweat beneath your palms as you stroked his cheeks. Your voice came off more rushed and frantic than you would have liked it to, and you made an effort to speak in a slow, melodic drone from then on.

            Kylo’s face had drained itself to a ghastly shade of white, and for a moment you considered hauling him to the medbay. The thought was met with images of burning medical equipment and a medbay set ablaze by a violent red glow, and you immediately decided against it. Still, with the way he crumbled before you, gasping and panting for any hint of air, you thought he might just pass out. Admittedly, this seemed like a welcomed solution.

            Dropping your hands from Kylo’s face, you instead lunged forward and cut the tiny distance between you to wrap yourself around his shoulders, holding him tightly against your chest.

“You’re okay…Just catch your breath…you’re alright,” you cooed, sliding a hand into his sweat-dampened hair to cradle his head against your shoulder. Kylo choked out a sob into the material of your jacket, and if anything, it brought you relief to know he could breathe enough _to_ sob. You smoothed your other hand down his back and up again, pressing hard enough for him to feel it through his thick outer layers as you continued to shush his panicked cries.

            Eventually his breathing slowed to a rate that matched yours, though you were still doing so at a particularly controlled rate for Kylo’s benefit. The hands that had been clutching at your clothing released, and Kylo slumped forwards, a dead weight against your chest. You held him a while longer, raking your fingers gently through his hair as he calmed.

            “Okay?” You inquired simply, pulling back just enough to bring Kylo’s face into view. His reddened eyes flicked over to yours for a moment before returning to focus on some point in the distance. You didn’t pry further, only tilting your head down to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Kylo’s jaw twitched beneath your lips as they pressed down in a featherlight kiss, but he leaned into your touch with a sigh. “C’mon,” you prodded, knowing well enough that the next few minutes were most likely to bring an infuriated General to the doorway, blood boiling. “You need sleep,” after a moment’s pause you added, “or a drink.”

Kylo didn’t argue with either as you swept your fingers upwards across his forehead, pushing back all the stray locks of hair. Tugging your sleeve up slightly, you began to dab at the remaining tears drying against his flushed cheeks; Kylo’s mouth pressed into firm line and he nearly ducked away.

Hauling him to his feet was easier than expected and after only minor protest, Kylo allowed you to keep his mask tucked under your arm as you exited the smoking breaker room.

The other arm remained close to your side, with only your wrist cocked subtly at the end. Your hand disappeared beneath the black robes beside you and soon folded itself into the gloved hand waiting on the other side.

           

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this was rlly self-indulgent and i wrote most of it at 5:30 yesterday morning when i was avoiding doing an essay; excuse grammar things i was not diligent enough to notice, and also the rushed ending bc god if i let it go on longer i would've written at least another thousand words of emotionally exhausted cuddling 
> 
> UR KUDOS & COMMENTS MAKE A DIFFERENCE EVEN IF IT'S JUST A KEYBOARD SMASH. I LIKE MAKING PEOPLE /FEEL/ KEYBOARD-SMASHY. x


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